Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the
gold
Used to hang and brush their read more

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the
gold
Used to hang and brush their bosoms?

Beware of her fair hair, for she excels
All women in the magic of her locks;
And read more

Beware of her fair hair, for she excels
All women in the magic of her locks;
And when she winds them round a young man's neck,
She will not ever set him free again.

It was brown with a golden gloss, Janette,
It was finer than silk of the floss, my pet;
read more

It was brown with a golden gloss, Janette,
It was finer than silk of the floss, my pet;
'Twas a beautiful mist falling down to your wrist,
'Twas a thing to be braided, and jewelled, and kissed--
'Twas the loveliest hair in the world, my pet.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less with baldness.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less with baldness.

And from that luckless hour my tyrant fair
Has led and turned me by a single hair.

And from that luckless hour my tyrant fair
Has led and turned me by a single hair.

And he said, My son shall not go down with you; for his brother
is dead, and he is read more

And he said, My son shall not go down with you; for his brother
is dead, and he is left alone: if mischief befall him by the way
in the which we go, then shall ye bring down my gray hairs with
sorrow to the grave.

And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair,
With gold in her garment glittering,
read more

And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair,
With gold in her garment glittering,
And she combs her golden hair.

The little wind that hardly shook
The silver of the sleeping brook
Blew the gold hair about read more

The little wind that hardly shook
The silver of the sleeping brook
Blew the gold hair about her eyes,--
A mystery of mysteries.
So he must often pause, and stoop,
An all the wanton ringlets loop
Behind her dainty ear--emprise
Of slow event and many sighs.

His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
read more

His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.